And hope felt strong
by nicky69
Summary: Written in response to the prompt, 'Hope' and contains spoilers for the episode, Remembrance. AN: Betaed by the lovely, elmyraemilie, any mistakes that you find are my own. Disclaimer: I don't own The Sentinel, I'm not making any money from this endeavor


_Written and originaly posted in response to the prompt, 'Hope' on the LJ community, Sentinel Thursday._

Standing by the window, hidden in the gloomy shadows cast by a morose sky, I watch him leave. His back is ramrod straight, his head held high, his every move seems filled with purpose. Surreptitiously I drink in the sight of him, hungry for even this limited contact; he doesn't look back.

Even after he is long gone, when the sound of his car engine has dwindled into the distance, I remain fixed in place. The memory of his cool demeanour, his polite rebuke, wounds me. His words of quiet censure more damning than a physical blow.

How did we come to this?

All those lonely days and months and years, after Grace left me, I thought I was doing my best for my family; being a good provider, keeping food on the table and a roof over out heads. I didn't know any other way to act or to be, but all of my hours of toil and hard work have come to naught. Ultimately they mean nothing. In my quest for the bigger deal, the bigger profit, I lost the one thing of true value that I had; the love of my boys.

What a fool I was, what a blind and stubborn fool!

I didn't understand then, couldn't see the damage that I inflicted on their fragile souls by my criticism, my lack of faith, and worst of all by my absence. I gave them everything but my love and my approval, and looking back now, I can see that those are the things they hungered for the most, especially Jimmy.

Being the oldest, it was hardest on him when Grace left. Steven was young enough to bounce back from her departure; he seemed to take it more in stride. Yes, there were tears in the beginning, but he got over them quickly; after all he had his big brother to turn to for comfort. In his eyes Jimmy could do no wrong, he was his hero, his protector, his friend. All the things that I should have been, for the both of them, and was not.

Instead another man stepped in to fill the breach. Kind and generous, he saw something in my boy, something special that yearned to be nurtured and cherished. When he died, I was filled with shame, for I was secretly thankful that the competition was gone.

When Jim claimed to have seen Bud's killer, I was angry and afraid. My greatest fear wasn't that the madman would try to hurt him, but that others would discover that he was different. Where Bud had seen a special, gifted individual, all I could see was an outcast, my Jimmy branded a freak and shunned by the world. I couldn't let that happen, no matter the cost.

So to my eternal shame, I struck out at him, not physically, but with words. His arms held roughly in my larger hands, I offered not solace and understanding but scorn and shame. I forced him to meet my eyes as I drove the dagger deep. When I was finished, when he turned away from me, I saw a glimmer of unshed tears, but he denied me his grief and his pain, and I knew that I had lost him.

After that day he never mentioned anything about his senses again. He was the epitome of the perfect, obedient child, until the day he walked out my door and out of my life for good.

I never thought that I would see Jimmy again. No…that's wrong, I should call him Jim. He's a man now after all and a damn fine one too, despite my inept attempts at guiding him into manhood.

Even though I never quite plucked up the courage to seek him out to try to make things right between us, I never gave up on him, never stopped loving him. I followed his career and personal life as best I could, newspaper clippings in a scrapbook all I had of my eldest son, all I ever dared hope for.

That's all changed now.

Our meeting today was fraught with awkward chit chat, burdened by the echoes of past wrongs and pain. I don't delude myself that Jim's visit was facilitated by anything other than the need for information. Still, that he came at all, knowing that there was every possibility that he would run into me, is a testament to his determination, his courage, and his strength.

It gives me hope that one day I can earn his forgiveness. That one day I will again be worthy of his trust, and his love, and that is more precious to me than life itself.

I have hope.


End file.
